Mark Reviews Movies: TILL DEATH

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Review by Mark Dujsik | July 1, 2021

There is a clever and cruel logic to Jason Carvey's screenplay for Till Death, a tight and pretty twisted thriller. It's a film that's difficult to describe and analyze. That's not because it's overly complicated or complex. Indeed, the whole thing is simplicity itself. The fact of that difficulty is simply because to describe or detail too much of this story would give away too much.

In the big picture, "spoilers" don't matter. One can watch a movie with a thorough knowledge of the entire plot, and if the material and the filmmaking work, that knowledge should have little to no impact on the experience.

That's a theory, at least, but is this the film upon which to further test it? The prospect becomes tenuous with material such as this, which is all about the plot, all about the way one detail or event proceeds to the next one, all about the smart use of foreshadowing (such that we can see or suspect it happening, only to be kind of shocked when it eventually pays off—just a bit later than we might have anticipated), and all about the sense of the surprise, both for what we don't expect and for what we can't believe Carvey and director S.K. Dale actually follow through on doing.

In other words, spoilers might be the bane of this film's existence, although so much happens in this little thriller that it would likely be impossible to explain everything that happens in it. Anyway, that's enough of the theorizing. It's time to start dancing around the plot as much as possible.

Before the actual premise begins, we meet Emma (Megan Fox), a woman driving away from a romantic rendezvous with Tom (Aml Ameen). She end it abruptly. This relationship can't continue. On the drive, she pulls her wedding ring from a compartment in the car.

Her husband is a high-priced lawyer named Mark (Eoin Macken), who gave up life as a criminal prosecutor to chase the big bucks. They met when he was prosecuting the case of a man who stabbed Emma in a robbery gone wrong. She still experiences trauma from the memory of that.

Beyond and more importantly than their history, he's a controlling cad. As they're preparing to go out for dinner to celebrate their wedding anniversary the next day, Mark insists that there's time to stop at the apartment. He doesn't care for the black dress Emma is wearing and would prefer her to put on the red one he likes so much. Since there's almost no time in this story (or need for this story) to provide us with deep character development, such details get the job done.

After dinner at the restaurant (where Mark leaves behind a pretty thoughtful and very expensive gift, which seems to say one thing about his need to be in control—until we actually realize why he did so), the husband makes his wife wear a blindfold for over an hour, while he drives her to an anniversary surprise. It's their lake house, which is decorated with romantic excess, and would seem like a nice gesture, except that it's the middle of winter and the view is bit eerier than such an occasion might deserve.

In the morning, well, that's where the information and details either have to stop or have to become much vaguer. There's an especially startling moment just after Emma awakens. There's an even worse discovery, as she finds herself handcuffed to particularly heavy lump of dead weight. The landline doesn't work, and her cellphone is out of commission. Emma is trapped alone in this house, in the cold and with no way to cut or break her way out of being attached to a doubly metaphorical ball-and-chain.

A lot—and that sincerely means a lot—happens from this. The key is how Carvey does ensure that Emma, played with an appropriately increasing level of frustration and ferocity by Fox, keeps finding herself in more trouble, without making her seem fully helpless or completely hopeless. She knows where to look to try to escape but always comes up short. She's smart and determined enough, and that becomes even more vital when one unexpected visitor, who comes to help but turns out to be useless, is followed by another, who claims to be there to help but surely isn't.

The other key is how precisely Dale stages each moment of dread, suspense, and eventual terror. Some of the highlights include a scene of violence that plays out on the other side of a closed door, the quick use of an efficient hiding place in the snow, a game of cat-and-mouse (which only one of the participants knows to be playing) near and under a car, and a smart bit of matching cross-cutting, as two threats make their way across two different spaces. The plot, which mostly occurs in and around the lake house, drives forward with a real sense of momentum and a knowing understanding that even the smallest of details (from a key fob, to a necklace, to the placement of cars in a driveway, and to the number or absence of bullets in a pistol) can have a big payoff, if utilized correctly.

Till Death does utilize those detail—both big and small—correctly, and the result feels like one significant payoff after another. It's simple, yes, but there's a decided thrill in watching something this modest pulled off with such skill and cunning.

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